


These Many Years

by Medie



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-20
Updated: 2010-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-07 10:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many years post-series, Jon and Malcolm reflect</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Many Years

There was really no getting used to it. After all the years spent in space, there was really no getting used to waking up to the morning sun shining bright on his face. Malcolm certainly had never quite managed it. He'd acclimated himself, though Jon still teased him about his reluctance, but he'd never really accepted the notion. Not really.

However, as his husband took great glee in pointing out, promotion meant sacrifice and putting up with a sunrise or two was his. A small price to pay in service to the fledgling United Federation of Planets. There was also the matter that this particular promotion had been to the very highest job Starfleet could offer. Not to mention the fact that the Federation had become the thing the love of his life had devoted his life to and that was, in Malcolm Reed's opinion, a sacrifice well worth making.

Rolling over, the Englishman flung an arm across the bed and was unsurprised to find the other side of it empty and cold. Jonathan was already up and had been, no doubt, for many hours. Malcolm had tried to tell him to take it easier, that it was a politician's life he led now, but it had done no good. Jonathan had no easier readjusted to the civilian life than Malcolm had the sun in the sky. He still acted and thought like a Starfleet officer and devoted himself to the building and development of the Federation in the very same way he had the day to day operations and exploratory duties of the Enterprise. It took nearly one hundred percent of his focus -- well, _nearly_. As always, though his devotion to his duty was absolute, Jon's duty to his family was no less so. As much as Malcolm teased him, he had complete faith in him as well.

Abandoning the bed and selecting his clothing for the day, Malcolm stopped at his desk console to check the morning's plethora of messages. It was the unfortunate side of life as the Commander in Chief of Starfleet, he'd become the most sought after man in Starfleet. Albeit it sought after by a daily mountain of paperwork. Though paper actually rarely entered into the equation there was no less of the work. Pulling his undershirt over his head, Malcolm eyed the listing on the screen and mentally dismissed the usual Fleet status reports as irrelevant. They were, after all, only moderately different than the ones of the day before and all differences were ones he'd already taken into account. The requests from members of his staff and the Admiralty were likewise dismissed. They could be dealt with later, when he went into Headquarters, as there was nothing pressing among them. There were, as always, a few messages which did catch his eye.

Like the one from Travis, captain of the Reliant, on the status of the Neutral Zone. Malcolm had personally assigned Travis and his ship to that particular duty. The crew of the former Enterprise had the most experience with dealing with the Romulans and Travis especially so. Also, he had the much-feared Admiral Reed's trust and though Malcolm did not truly believe anyone in Starfleet would betray the Federation...he wanted people he trusted commanding the ships that patrolled the Neutral Zone. The Romulans had been on their best behavior ever since that particular little buffer had been set up between their Star Empire and the Federation but Malcolm would not be fooled. He had every confidence and belief they had not seen the last of the Romulan people and he would not allow Starfleet to be caught unawares when it did happen.

That particular message he immediately downloaded onto a PADD to discuss with Jon after breakfast. The Romulans were a mutual concern and the worsening situation with the Klingons had done nothing to change that. A more disheartening thought for both men couldn't be found.

After the situation with the Xindi had been resolved and the war with the Romulans had ended, they had so hoped their children would be able to grow up in a galaxy free of conflict but it seemed not to be so. The Klingons seemed hellbent to prevent such an occurrence and Malcolm was not sorry to admit he could quite cheerfully strangle them for their single-minded march to war. It frustrated him that after all they'd been through with the Klingons it would come down to war but, perhaps, it was the only way it could have gone.

He left the other messages as they were save the design proposal from Trip. He'd been expecting that one for some time and was looking forward to reviewing it. Trip had been talking about a new class of ship for some time, promising the new Constellation class his people were designing would be everything Starfleet and the Federation would need in an exploratory and defensive vessel. Malcolm liked what he had heard thus far. The old class of ship just wasn't cutting it anymore for the needs of the expanding Federation or the growing 'Fleet itself.

That proposal was downloaded to the PADD and with all of it in mind, he finished dressing and left the bedroom and walked through the presidential residence in search of his husband. At that hour, he had a good idea of where to find him and, as usual, he wasn't wrong about it. Jon was sitting on the balcony, drinking his morning cup of coffee, and reading a few reports of his own.

A light chuckle escaped Malcolm as he bent to kiss his husband good morning. "If I tell you it is far too early for you to be working so hard, will it do any good?"

Jon grinned, putting down the report and sliding a hand up to the back of Malcolm's neck, guiding him back down for a longer, deeper kiss. "No, but it'll let me know you care." He stole another kiss then sat back as Malcolm straightened and moved away. "Also guarantees you'll be getting some later."

Sitting across from him, Malcolm directed a searing look his husband's way. "Well then, I'll consider it a raging success." He let his gaze grow more serious as he said, "You really are working too hard, love. At this rate, you'll land yourself in hospital from exhaustion and I'll have my arse handed to me by Phlox. He's worse than a Klingon when he's angry, you know."

"I'm fine, Malcolm." Jon assured. "And I promise, just as soon as the negotiations with the Trill are concluded, you, me and the kids'll take a nice long vacation to Caspiria Prime."

The Trill, at the not so subtle urging of T'Pau and the Vulcan High Council, had only recently applied for Federation membership but the negotiations for admission were taking far longer than expected necessitating that the President himself, Jon, have to involve himself and Malcolm was growing more irritated with the secretive species by the day. The work was dragging on and wearing his husband down and the stress was beginning to show in Jon's eyes. Malcolm would be only too happy to hear the Trill had withdrawn their application except he knew Jon would take it as a personal failure and that was the very last thing he wanted him to do. With a sigh, he acknowledged the olive branch and nodded once. "They're still giving you trouble, hmm?" This was said with a supportive rub of his hand over Jon's.

"Trouble's not the word for it." His husband complained quietly, turning his hand over and watching Malcolm's fingers rub his palm. "I've never seen anything like it. They're so damn secretive about _everything_. It's ridiculous, just like the terms they're asking for." He shook his head. With a smile, he curled his fingers about Malcolm's hand and nodded. "I know, you're right. I've been too focused on this for too long..."

"I never said any such thing and -- I'm sorry, did you just admit I was right?" Malcolm's eyebrows rose in disbelief and he tilted his head to one side, surveying the man across the table. "Are you quite sure you're the man I married? The man who absolutely insisted that our firstborn was going to be a son despite everyone else's - Phlox included might I add - proclamations it would be a girl right up until she actually emerged into the world? The man who then insisted our second child would be another daughter despite everyone else's insistence to the contrary?" Malcolm grinned wryly, enjoying the way Jon's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Even after so many years together, it was still so dreadfully easy to make him blush.

"You don't need to." Jon said finally. "You were thinking it. Admit it, Malcolm."

"Oh, of course." He agreed easily. "I enjoy worrying about you. I did manage to make a career out of it if you recall."

"A career and a marriage." Jon brought Malcolm's hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over his palm, "Have I mentioned lately it's a pretty damn good marriage?" He smiled, leaning across the table to kiss him. "At the risk of sounding overly emotional and offending those British sensibilities of yours, I love you."

"And I you." Malcolm returned, closing the minute distance between them to kiss him again.

"Ewwwwwwwwww, guys, not at the breakfast table!" Matthew, the youngest of their children, proclaimed from the door with the disgust only a child can manage. "Gross, you two." Sitting at the table, the preteen reached for the orange juice. "Some of us are trying to eat our breakfast y'know."

Holding in their laughter, his parents shared a loving look over his head. Ah, the age of cooties. If only he'd stay at that age forever. The fact that children grew up only too fast was something they'd learned quickly with their eldest child, their daughter, Mallorie. She'd just entered the Academy, intent on following in the family business, and to the dismay of her doting fathers, she'd already caught the eye of one of her classmates. Malcolm, especially, was none too pleased with that particular development but, like both her fathers before her, Mallorie was entirely too stubborn to concern herself with her father's opinion of her lovelife. She was only too happy to ignore his objections and blissfully go about her life.

Which was all well and good by Malcolm's reckoning. After all, he had the final say in the matter whether his daughter or her boyfriend liked it or not. One word and the young man in question was on the very next ship bound for patrol of the Neutral Zone with a final destination of the Reliant. Travis would be only too happy to make the boy's life the proverbial living hell.

Rank hath its privileges and when the only man who could countermand his decision happened to be his husband, Malcolm was quite well and truly set.

Across the table, Jon laughed and ruffled his son's hair. "Give it a few years, Matt, your opinion'll change."

"Uh uh." The boy insisted. "Not happening."

"Oh it'll happen." His other father insisted with a regretful sigh. "And then you'll have us in the same situation your sister does and I'll be running out of ships to exile the prospective dates to. The Neutral Zone is only so large you know."

"Don't worry, Dad." Matthew assured solemnly. "I'm not gonna worry about that stuff. I'm gonna be a starship captain and captains don't have time for," he shuddered dramatically, "kissing and stuff like that. They've got important stuff to do." He sat back and looked confident. "I'll be too busy saving the Federation for stuff like sex."

Malcolm was quite sure the control it took to keep his face from betraying his amusement would've certainly made T'Pol green with envy while Jon very nearly choked on the mouthful of scrambled eggs he'd just taken. "Oh, of course, quite so. Can't imagine how I forgot that."

"S'ok, Dad." His son promised, leaning over to pat his hand. "We don't mind, do we Daddy?" He turned to Jon.

Coughing, his eyes watering, Jon waved a hand and shook his head. "No, we don't mind a bit." He coughed again, his voice hoarse, and met his husband's eyes. "When it comes to your Dad, we don't mind a bit."

Malcolm smiled back, hearing the unspoken message loud and clear, and resolved to contact T'Pau on Vulcan. If she was so hellbent on ushering Trill into the Federation then she was going to have to prove it and fast. The President had a vacation to take and his husband was anything but a patient man.

Fortunately for him, Jon didn't mind his impatience. Fortunately for him, Jon didn't mind a lot of things and Malcolm loved him for it. It and so many other things which were too innumerable to mention.

In the midst of his thoughts, he realized Matthew was speaking again.

Looking from one father to the other, he worried, "You two aren't gonna kiss again are you?" In Matthew's opinion, parents kissing was just wrong on so many levels. "Are you?"

"Best avert your eyes, son," Malcolm advised briskly. "This could take some time."

"Aw mannnn..." Matthew clapped a hand over his eyes, heaving a dramatic sigh. "You guys are so," he heaved another sigh, "_parents_!"

The parents in question shared a soft chuckle and leaned in to kiss each other gently.

"Caspiria Prime as soon --" Malcolm murmured against his husband's lips.

"As possible." Jonathan finished with a nod. "Deal."

Some things had been more trouble to acclimate to than others. Suns and civilian life, surprisingly hard. Life together? Not so much.


End file.
